“I have never been in one, thank God!” his friend replied, “but with taxes increasing as they are, it will not be long before I shall have to take my place with the other paupers!”
He had snorted before he said angrily,
“Do you realise that the tax on a two-wheeled private carriage is now seven pounds and on a four-wheel twenty-one pounds? And that is not counting the tax of five pounds on one horse and nine pounds on three! It is anarchy, that’s what it is! And what do the Government do with the money, I ask you? They waste it!”
“That is true enough,” Colonel Maldon had agreed.
“We are being taxed out of existence,” his friend had said and Andrina had found it difficult not to agree with him.
At the same time she could not help wishing, as the journey progressed, that she had been able to travel in the comfort of her own carriage as so many Cheshire families did when they were proceeding to London.
The clerk opposite her fell asleep and snored, the baby screamed and the fat farmer’s wife inched further and further towards Andrina. What was more, she ate continually of the food she had stored away in her covered basket.
It was quite fascinating to see how much she had brought with her.
There was a large pork pie, slices of cold ham, hard-boiled eggs and at least a dozen pasties, all of which she consumed one after another without offering a bite to anyone else in the coach.
Andrina was extremely glad when they stopped at about noon for luncheon at a Posting inn.
The landlord was expecting them and a rather indifferent meal was slapped down in front of the coach travellers, who were not considered to be very good customers.
There was, however, a hot soup, which, although not very appetising, was warming, and Andrina found the excellent local cheese was more palatable than the slices of tough meat and badly cooked brawn that were served with watery vegetables.
They hardly had time to finish their food before they were off again and now, although they stopped to change horses, the passengers were not expected to alight until they reached Leicester where they were to stay the night.
Andrina closed her eyes and wondered if she would sleep a little, but the horses galloped and the coach swayed from side to side on the rough roads and almost immediately the baby started crying again.
The farmer’s wife only went a few miles before she again opened her food basket and now there was the pungent smell of onions, which apparently she considered most appetising!
Andrina found it difficult to sleep because her mind was beset with the problems she would find when she arrived.
It had been one thing to tell the girls what she planned and sound confident, quite another to beard an unknown Duke and try to make him feel that the three daughters of a long-lost friend were his special responsibility.
‘Perhaps I ought to have brought Cheryl with me,’ Andrina told herself.
However old the Duke might be, unless he was completely blind, he would have been beguiled and astonished by Cheryl’s beauty.
But Andrina had the feeling that Cheryl would not be much use under the circumstances.
If the Duke protested in any way about doing what was asked of him, Cheryl would immediately be hurt and would capitulate and accept his refusal without protest.
Andrina had every intention of protesting, arguing and begging until she got her own way.
‘I intend to have no feelings concerning myself in the matter,’ she told herself. ‘If he thinks me audacious, he must just think so and, if he thinks it impertinent, well, it will not worry me. All that matters is that he should agree.’
In the afternoon there were storms, the rain beating against the closed windows made it impossible to look out.
Then it grew dark and Andrina, like everyone else, began to think about dinner.
It was usual for the passengers of a stagecoach to dine at about six o’clock, but it was after seven before they rumbled into a large Posting inn outside Leicester.
Andrina stepped out carrying her own valise, feeling stiff, crumpled and in need of fresh air.
It had been cold sitting in the coach and the smell of onions combined with the screams of the baby had made it intolerable.
A mob-capped maid showed her to the top floor of the inn where the very worst rooms were kept for stagecoach passengers.
As they passed through the vestibule and climbed the stairs, Andrina heard loud laughter and the noise of many voices coming both from the taproom and the dining saloon.
“You seem to be very crowded,” she said to the maid walking ahead of her.
“It’s the races, miss. We’re full right up and there’s not another corner where you could put an extra mouse!”
Andrina smiled and then she said,
“It must mean a lot of extra work for you.”
“The gentry tips well,” the girl answered, “’though I don’t mind tellin’ you, miss, my feet feels as if they don’t belong to me by the time I gets to my bed!”
“I am sure they do,” Andrina said, “but try putting a little mustard in hot water and soaking them. That helps.”
“I never thought of that!” the girl exclaimed. “Thank you, miss, I’ll remember what you said.”
Perhaps it was because Andrina had been so friendly that she was shown into an attic room where she would sleep alone.
The fat farmer’s wife and the woman with the crying baby were given a double room to share next door and Andrina was thankful that she did not have to be with either of them.
She took off the gown in which she had travelled and hung it up on the back of the door. Then she washed herself and put on a velvet dress that she often wore at home.
It was a pretty shade of crimson and had a lace collar and lace cuffs on the short puff-sleeves. Although it was not by any means fashionable, as Sharon had pointed out to her, it was warm and, although Andrina did not think about it, extremely becoming.
She tidied her hair and went downstairs, feeling, she told herself, ready to eat an ox, she was so hungry.
She found the innkeeper outside the dining saloon, from which the noise appeared to have grown louder since she last passed it.
“Will you please show me to the table reserved for the stagecoach passengers?” Andrina asked.
“The stagecoach passengers?” the innkeeper repeated. “You’ll be lucky if you gets anythin’ to eat before ten o’clock. All the tables are booked. We can’t accommodate you until the gentlemen have finished!”
“But that is disgraceful!” Andrina said, annoyed not only by the information but also by the manner he spoke to her in.
“You know as well as I do,” she went on, “that the inns are under an obligation to feed the stagecoach passengers. Their meals, like their rooms, are reserved for them.”
“I can’t do the impossible!” the innkeeper retorted surlily. “You’ll get your dinner when there’s a place for you and not before!”
“I consider it quite outrageous!” Andrina said sharply, then realised that the innkeeper was not even waiting for her comments, but had walked away from her down the passage.
“What is outrageous?” a cultured voice asked.
She turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman who had just come out of the door behind her so that she was blocking his way.
Because she was so angry Andrina with her eyes flashing, told him the truth.
“The stagecoach passengers, sir,” she replied, “are not to be fed until ten o’clock or later! We have been travelling all day and naturally we are extremely hungry!”
A burst of laughter from the dining saloon almost drowned her last words.
The gentleman she was speaking to glanced over her head at the glass doors before he asked,
“I can perhaps understand the innkeeper’s predicament when he has so many extra customers. Are you alone?”
“If you mean am I travelling without a personal companion,” Andrina answered, “I am.”
“Then may I, as an alternative to your waiting until ten o’clock, suggest that you dine with me?”
Andrina stiffened.
Her lips opened ready to refuse, but the gentleman quickly added,
“It may perhaps seem rather unconventional, but I should imagine that it would be more pleasant than waiting for two-and-a-half hours, when doubtless any dish in the place that is worth eating will be off the menu.”
He spoke in a sarcastic manner that Andrina found amusing and she thought too, as she looked up at him, that he was obviously a gentleman of distinction and had a presence that was unmistakable.
His coat was exquisitely cut, his white cravat tied in intricate folds was spotless and he had obviously changed for dinner.
Because she was in fact so hungry, Andrina made up her mind.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “If you are quite certain that it will not inconvenience you, I should be very glad to accept your invitation.”
“As a matter of fact you will be doing me a favour,” he said. “The friend who should have been with me decided to return to London when the racing was over. Will you come into my private parlour?”
He made a gesture with his hand as he spoke. Then, as Andrina walked ahead of him, he turned to say to the innkeeper who had reappeared,
“The bell appears to be broken! I have been ringing for the wine I ordered. Bring two bottles and double the order for dinner.”
“Very good, sir,” the innkeeper said in a very different tone of voice from the one he had spoken to Andrina in.
The gentleman turned and walked into the parlour where Andrina was already warming herself in front of a large log fire.
The light there was brighter than the one in the passage and she saw that she had not been mistaken in thinking he looked distinguished.
He was perhaps not handsome, but his high-bridged nose was aristocratic, his dark eyes had a rather quizzical look and there was a twist to his lips that gave him a somewhat sardonic appearance.
“Shall we introduce ourselves?” he asked as he approached Andrina.
Andrina hesitated thinking that perhaps it would be wiser not to give him her real name.
“My name is – Morgan, sir,” she replied, “Miss Morgan.”
“And mine is Sir Tancred Wensley.”
Andrina dropped him a small curtsey and he bowed slightly superciliously she thought.
“You are really travelling alone, Miss Morgan?”
There was something in the way he said the words that made Andrina feel for the first time since she had met him a little self-conscious.
“There was unfortunately no one who could accompany me,” she replied.
“Then it is my good fortune that I can be of service to you,” Sir Tancred said. “Will you not sit down and may I offer you a glass of madeira?”
“Thank you,” Andrina replied, “but only a very little, if you please. My father always said it was a great mistake to drink on an empty stomach.”
“It is one of those wise adages with which I concur in theory, but break on every possible occasion!” Sir Tancred said lightly.
He poured Andrina a little of the madeira and brought it to her as she settled herself on one side of the hearth.
He took the other side and she knew that he was looking at her with his dark eyes, which she felt were almost impertinently searching and inquisitive.
After a moment he remarked,
“You are far too attractive, Miss Morgan, to be unattended.”
“I assure you, sir, I am quite safe with my fellow travellers,” Andrina answered with a smile. “They either snore, scream or eat without ceasing!”
“But now you are not with them,” Sir Tancred pointed out.
She gave him a quick glance and then replied,
“If you feel it is imprudent of me, sir, to have accepted your invitation, perhaps I had better wait until ten o’clock.”
“I was not suggesting anything of the sort,” Sir Tancred said. “I was merely thinking that to enter a dining room, containing as it does a very mixed company from the Racecourse, would be far more dangerous for you than anything you will encounter here with me!”
“I am grateful for the reassurance,” Andrina said primly.
As she spoke she realised that he was right and it might have been very unpleasant to go into the dining saloon amongst a number of men who, she was quite certain from the noise and laughter, were speedily becoming ‘foxed’ after a long day at the races.
But it would also not be very pleasant to go to bed without having eaten and she could in fact feel nothing but gratitude to the gentleman who had seen her predicament. At the same time she felt somewhat guilty about her fellow travellers.
Then she told herself the fat farmer’s wife would certainly not be hungry and the woman with the baby had not gone out of her way either to apologise for the noise he was making or to make herself pleasant to anyone else on the coach.
She realised that Sir Tancred was waiting as if he expected her to make some comment, but at that moment the door opened and a mob-capped maid entered bearing plates and dishes on a tray and was followed by a waiter with wine and glasses.
Because she was so hungry Andrina could not help her eyes lighting up.
“Here is our food!” she exclaimed, almost as if it was a miracle.
“I told you that you were wise to accept my invitation,” Sir Tancred said. “So let’s sit down and enjoy ourselves and let me assure you once again, Miss Morgan, I am really very much obliged to you.”
Andrina laughed.
“That is unfair!” she said. “That is what I should be saying to you and now you have taken the words out of my mouth!”
He smiled and, when she seated herself at the table, he sat down in a high-backed chair that seemed to suit him.
Despite his air of distinction there was a casualness about him in the way he moved and in the way he spoke that made Andrina think that he was unlike any man she had met before.
She told herself, as she glanced at him surreptitiously while he was giving orders to the waiter, that he was used to command.
At the same time she felt he would be a difficult man to cross and there was something slightly overbearing, or perhaps the right word was ‘autocratic’ about him.
‘Perhaps he has been a soldier,’ she thought to herself because in some ways he made her think of some of the soldiers who called on her father during the War.
They had all had that same air of authority as if they were ready to order the world around and expect to be obeyed.
Watching Sir Tancred, Andrina told herself that she was quite sure he had been a soldier and he was the same type of man that Wellington must be.
The hero of Waterloo had always been a man she greatly admired and she would make her father tell her over and over again what he had been like when he had fought under him in India.
“Only Wellington – or rather Wellesley, as he was then – could have won the battle of Assaye,” her father had said over and over again, “and only Wellington could have made a success of the Peninsular War.”
Her father had been very ill when the battle of Waterloo the previous year had brought a decisive end to the eleven years war.
Andrina had read him all the reports in the newspapers and, when they praised the ‘Iron Duke’ and the manner in which he had conducted the campaign, Colonel Maldon had been able to forget for a little while the pain he suffered.
The first course was the inevitable Mulligatawny soup, which was a faithful standby not only in every inn but also in every private house.
Sir Tancred tasted it and reached for the peppermill, but Andrina was too hungry to be particular.
She finished her plateful of soup without speaking and then realised that Sir Tancred was sitting back in his chair regarding her with a faint smile on his lips.
“Now tell me about yourself,” he suggested. “I admit to being somewhat intrigued.”
Ch
apter Two
Andrina had no intention of discussing her private affairs with a stranger, although she was sure that Sir Tancred could, if he wished, tell her much of what she wanted to know about the Duke.
She was certain that he was of Social consequence, perhaps one of the Regency bucks Sharon was always talking about.
After a moment, as he was obviously waiting for her answer to his question, she replied,
“I am going to London.”
“And what do you intend to do when you get there?” he asked.
“I am looking for a man,” she replied truthfully.
Because she was intent upon helping herself to the next course, she was unaware that he raised his eyebrows and there was an amused twinkle in his eyes.
“That should not be difficult,” he remarked.
“No, I am sure it will be quite easy!” Andrina replied.
She had made the same answer to Cheryl last night when her sister said,
“London is a big place, Andrina. How will you find the Duke when you arrive there if we don’t know his address?”
“That will not be difficult,” Andrina had answered. “There are not very many Dukes and someone will be able to tell me where his house is.”
“Nearly all the Nobility have houses that bear their names,” Sharon interposed. “The Duke of Richmond lives at Richmond House, the Marquis of Londonderry lives at Londonderry House and the Earl of Derby at Derby House.”
“So the Duke of Broxbourne will live at Broxbourne House,” Andrina said. “I am certain it will be somewhere in the Mayfair area.”
“You will have to hire a Hackney carriage from where the stagecoach sets you down at the Central Coach Office in Lud Lane.”
“I have thought of that,” Andrina said. “It will be expensive, but if I try any other method of transport I might find myself lost.”
“Of course,” Sharon agreed, “and anyway, if you arrived on foot at Broxbourne House, the servants might refuse to let you see the Duke.”
This was something that had already worried Andrina when she was making her plans.
If her father’s description of the state and grandeur in which the Duke lived was true, there would be a whole army of servants to get by before she actually reached his presence.
The Husband Hunters Page 3
